


Burn

by pseuds



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: AU, Crown Prince - Freeform, Crown of Midnight, Demon, Gen, Heir of Fire, Imprisonment, Queen Of Shadows, Throne of Glass, Valg, this doesnt contain happy content jsyk, wrydkey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 17:18:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12194268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseuds/pseuds/pseuds
Summary: The King of Adarlan tried to force the location of the third wrydkey out of Aelin and when she didn't give in, the king proved how he deserves a spot in Lucifer's inner circle.





	Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, it's pseuds. This was actually a work I've written back in November 2015 under our Creative Writing exam and I forgot what the prompt was but I liked it so I decided to upload it to this account (two years later when the hype for this series has died and the ships became a mess, I know). I actually haven't finished the series as I stopped with Queen of Shadows so I'm sorry if the setting of this is in those eras or earlier but I hope you still like it even if it's really short lol

Aelin counted the sentries stationed around the cell—ten were positioned along the wall of the room, fifteen outside her door, and another fifteen guarding the hallway forking to the upper level of the castle where there would be no doubt dozens of the king’s men patrolling the area. Despite the circumstances, she smiled. It was flattering that they sent all their best guards just to make sure she doesn’t do anything dirty.  

She eyed the weapons sheathed by their side, calculating the distance between the guard closest to her and her position. Two of the men blocked the only exit and it was a good fifty meters from where she sat. Snatching a sword from one of the sentries was a risk she wasn’t willing to take unless she planned to have her hands sliced off, and running to the door was definitely a foolish idea; there’d be a dozen arrows impaling her back before she could even make it halfway through and besides, her wrists were shackled in chains. However . . .

She gave it a subtle lift. It was short, but long enough to strangle someone’s throat if they got too close. Plans began formulating in her mind when footsteps thudded down the hall. She looked up just in time to see the door swing open and in stepped the man who made her miserable life a living hell, his once blue eyes now glittering obsidian. All the sentries went into deep bows—murmuring their greetings—as he stopped a few feet from Aelin. Guards flanked his sides, as vicious and thirsty for blood as a pack of wolves—just like the monster between them.

Aelin grinned. “Your Majesty, last time you called for a summons it was in the throne room. I suppose you find the dungeon more to your liking?”

The king smiled slowly—it was the kind of smile you give to someone who’s about to die. “Aelin Galathynius, the rightful queen of Terrasen, and Adarlan’s greatest assassin—we meet at last.”

“The King of Adarlan, murderer of my people, and the world’s greatest wrench—glad to be of service.”

His cape shifted as he laughed—a low, mocking laugh. He reminded her so much of his son—only older and way more corrupted. They shared the same tousled hair as dark as obsidian that matched his pale complexion—a Havilliard trait. He had broad shoulders and arms that had killed so much on a battlefield; a strong jaw—freshly shaven—that held the lips which commanded the slaughter of her parents. Even for his age and despite his infamous reputation, Aelin gives credit where credit is due: he was beautiful in his own cruel, dastardly way.

Given the fact that she had kissed his son who looked exactly like him—the thought made her shudder. Yet, thinking of Dorian . . .

She tried to keep her breathing steady, tried to keep the pain away—to lock it in the deepest folds of her heart where it never has to see daylight ever again.

“I’m glad to see you still haven’t lost your sense of humor.” The king’s dark eyes turned to stone. “Alas, let’s not get carried away. Where is the third wrydkey?”

“Cutting to the chase, are we?” said Aelin, but the flicker of amusement faded from her eyes as well.

“Say where it is and I shall let you walk out of this unscathed.”

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but do you take me for a fool?”

A laugh. “Let’s have a bargain, then. If you tell me the location of the third wrydkey, I’d give you anything you want—a court, wealth, even your little princeling—” Aelin’s heart froze “—and I can remove his collar for you. Anything you want in exchange for that small, tiny piece of information. Do we have a deal?”

Dorian. He meant Dorian. But the collar couldn’t be removed—the only way is through death. But even if it can be removed, who knows for certain whether he was still in there—that the demon hasn’t eaten everything he used to be—that the Dorian she knew is still alive?

She took a moment to collect herself and said sweetly, “Your head on a plate is the only thing I want.”

The king sighed, but he was smiling. “Don’t tell me I didn’t give you a choice.”

“You didn’t give me one when you burned my land ten years ago.”

There was a wicked gleam in his eyes as he snapped his fingers and a sentry brought in a small dagger no bigger than her forearm. Aelin opened her mouth to retort when the king gave a lazy smile. “Oh, this isn’t for you.”

A chill raked down her spine when the door swung open again. Her entire world almost collapsed as Dorian—no, the demon wearing Dorian’s face—strode in.

He stopped beside his father and took the knife.

“Last chance, Aelin Galathynius,” the king drawled. “Where is the third wrydkey?”

Blood roared in her ears. Every instinct told her that he would never hurt his own son, that he isn’t that much of a—

Aelin shook her head.

“Dorian, if you would do us the honor.”

Dorian lifted the dagger and Aelin watched in horror as the tip of the knife pierced his abdomen. Blood bloomed on his tunic.

Her knuckles shook—thank the gods her hands were bound or she would’ve clawed off the king’s smug face with his own sword.

“You wouldn’t kill your own son,” Aelin gritted out. “He’s the heir to the throne.”

“Indeed. But you see, I also have another son who wouldn’t mind wearing the crown.”

 _Bastard_.

She couldn’t give him the location of the wrydkey—she could never let that happen and Dorian—the old Dorian—knew that too. Giving him its location would literally mean the end of the world—the continent would be enslaved to the king, creatures darker than night itself would stroll the lands, and the world would become a living nightmare.

Taking a deep breath, she knew what she had to do. Her friend was already gone the moment that collar latched itself onto his neck, and she knew Dorian would’ve never forgiven her if she picked him over the safety of his people and everyone else.

So she stood back and watched her friend slowly gut himself—never feeling so helpless in her entire life. The king grinned at her and she willed herself not to give him the satisfaction to see her shed a tear as it was in those final seconds that she made a promise to herself. She would get out of this alive and return.

And once she comes back, she’ll burn this city to the ground.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> okay i know aelin wouldn't just sit back and let dorian gut himself but OH WELL hope u like that tho coz i think i enjoyed writing that sadistic ending lmao
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/jaehunty?lang=en)


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